What Nightmares are Made Of
by BennieWaffles
Summary: There are things on this earth, things more horrid than the sickest inventions of mankind. These are inventions by something greater than humans. These... are demons. Clace. Rated M. Attempt at horror. OOC. AU.
1. Proverbs 1921

**What Nightmares are Made Of**

 **Sum: There are things on this earth, things more horrid than the sickest inventions of mankind. These are inventions by something greater than humans. These... are demons. Clace. Rated M. Attempt at horror. OOC. AU.**

 **A/N: So, I'm going to attempt at this story thing. Tried before, but the story just got weaker as I went on, less descriptive, didn't know anymore. So, now I'm actually going to try my hardest. Do not expect me to update this regularly, but if I happen to update, you can expect more chapters to follow because I will pre-write this in parts. So I'll write like, 4 chapters at a time.**

 **This is my alternative take on the Shadowhunter universe, hope you enjoy. It gets a little gory, by the by.**

 _Chapter 1_

 _''You can make many plans, but the Lord's purpose will prevail.''  
Proverbs 19:21_

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It was like humanity was given the chance to be reborn, to restore themselves.

She had read history books—whatever had been left—and spent as much time as she could gaining insight on the past.

She couldn't help but be fascinated by this world that had rebuilt itsself in the ashes of the old one.

As she had read and read, theories had planted themselves in her brain. From what she could find, she noted that around about each 100 years, tragedy would strike and wipe a part of humanity out, leaving them to rebuild it.

Same had happened to this world 100 years ago, so she couldn't help but wonder: what would strike them now?

 _Whoever up above, I pray, do not let me find out._

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''Clarissa, eat your soup.''

She glanced up from where she had been staring at her soup as she pushed the little meatballs down, where afterwards they would float right back up.

The soup tasted horrid, flat, no herbs.

Herbs, she had read, were used for all sorts of things. Medicinal purposes, baking, cooking, rituals and sacrificial ceremonies.

People used to believe in things such as Satan, God and his angels.

Satan, or Lucifer, was God's most precious angel, his favorite.

But in the end, all angels would fall.

Lucifer did, he despised mankind, could not comprehend why God chose mankind over his angels.

Clary didn't know, either.

''Ma'am, do you believe in God?''

Everyone at the table fell silent.

Imogen slammed her fork down on the table, made the glass cups shake.

Clary saw Maia roll her eyes from the corner of her eye.

Everyone knew what would happen at least twice a week.

Clary would let something slip from her mouth that she shouldn't have.

Imogen would speak, loud and clear.

''Go to your room, take your belt off and wait for me there.''

The rest would sit in the living room, some would wince, some would plug their ears, some would remain indifferent as the painfilled cries of a girl echoed through the house.

As Clary would lay weeping in bed, Imogen would whisper her prayers to God in the old woman's room.

Everyone sinned. It was just the question, to who were they sins? Who would punish them for it?

Clary's sin was being curious.

Imogen's sin was believing, having hope.

Everyone else's sin was being alive.

And somewhere, in the deep darkness of the 'polluted' forest beyond the wards, there was a boy, whose sin was being what he was.

A monster.

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 **A/N: Good? Or nah? I'm gonna continue anyway.**

 **Leave me a review :)**

 **Favorite and follow xoxoxo**

 **Waffles out.**


	2. Isaiah 4110

**What Nightmares are Made Of**

 **A/N: Okay, second chapter. This one is obviously going to be longer, the other one was just a little intro.**

 **Here we go!**

 _Chapter 2_

 _''Fear not, for I am with you; be not dismayed for I am your God; I will strengthen you, I will help you, I will uphold you with my righteous hand.'' Isaiah 41:10_

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 _She felt the cold wind on her skin, but she knew that it did not come from the trees, not from the so called 'airplanes', not from the 'helicopters', not birds, not even of the mythical 'dragons'._

Oh, my Lord, how I wish it did.

 _Instead, she saw wings, as white as snow, each feather as bright as the other. Even though it had shadows as they overlapped, at the same time, they didn't. She blamed it on trickery of the mind, but knew it was trickery of existence._

 _It was like she was seeing everything zoomed in, not the full picture._

 _As the wind went on, burning as it froze her skin, her brain managed to filter out noise._

 _Rushing, like a giant bird's wings as it took off for flight._

 _But these wings, the ones she saw, where still; at the same time, she saw them moving, like each feather had an individual mind and soul._

 _Her eyes followed the wings, trying to identify what they were stuck to but the image would not appear, would not zoom out._

 _Instead, she could see to the ends of the wings. She gasped for air as her eyes reached them, but she could not breathe. No air was around her, she felt like she was drowning._

 _And, she found, she was. Her arms were splashing wildly around her, bubbles floating up as she gasped for air and lost all that she previously had._

 _She was under water, and as she looked at the wings of a great being, it was like they were reflected upon the surface, above her. She could see through it, through the reflection of the wings tipped with searching golden eyes, to the dark night sky above._

 _As her mind comprehended that it was indeed a reflection, she wildly spartled around until her body turned to what was below her._

 _Like the flick of a switch, her vision went dark._

 _In that darkness she was drowning, her lungs filled with water though her body was in dry air._

 _Almost like she was drowning in the sky, the blue of the horizon choking her as she breathed it in._

 _In that drowning darkness, flashes of what she did not want to see came across her vision._

 _Trying as best as she could, she had to use her memory to piece the flashes together to create a full picture, all whilst trying to get air inside her body. But as she was suspended in the night sky, she found no air. Only nothing._

 _Her mind found the image someone was trying to send her, partially._

 _She saw a sharp jawline of a man, but as she focused she could no longer call it a man._

 _Patches of skin were torn off, pale white skin. One large patch was gone where the mouth should've been, in its place giant, sharp teeth poised in an endless grin. But whatever it was, its eyes weren't grinning. Its eyes were black, like deep, endless pits of pain and evil. As she was drowning in the night sky, trying to come up—or down—for air, she only fell towards those endless pits, where she finally got to breathe._

 _She breathed fire._

 _Literal fire filled her lungs as she opened her eyes and saw Hell._

 _A voice sounded, like a thousand cries of pain and fury, yet at the same time as gentle as a mother's whisper._

''A monster you have become, so a monster you shall be.''

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She gasped awake, automatically coughing up all of the nonexistent water that had filled her lungs.

She found, as she came to her senses, she had not been drowning in an endless ocean of water, but in her own cold sweat.

As she put her hands up to cool her cheeks and forehead, she found them feverishly hot. She felt her sweaty hair, tangled against her back.

And as her eyes wandered to her window, she found that what she did not want to see, that what she wanted to forget as soon as she saw it.

As she had seen is in her dreams, she saw it now before her, staring at her through the window with the same endless pits for eyes.

But, paired with the same disturbing image she had first found in her dream, she caught a flash of gold when the figure turned and fled through the night.

Just like that, her reality shattered and she passed out again.

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She ventured beyond the wards, feeling the compressing air of within them disappear as she pushed her body through them, instead inhaling the rich air of nature as it should be.

The wards were holy, protecting all the land they had managed to recover from the rubble of the War.

The War, as everyone called it, ended 116 years ago. It had lasted a rough 40 years.

A fact that everyone refused to talk about is that it had been a terrifying, nuclear war. It had wiped out almost all of mankind. The few that survived sought shelter and built what people had today.

For protective reasons, or so was told, no one was allowed to research the history of the world. She suspected that it was out of fear that history would repeat itsself, that it would give people ideas.

Clary had always ignored the rules, something she would be punished for, in this life or the next.

To the few that dared to research, the War was called World War III. No one was allowed to know of the previous two wars that had occurred.

One person, long dead, who she had always had an interest in was an evil man named Adolf Hitler. He managed to kill so much of a religion, with just a voice at first.

She admired the power of persuasion and manipulation. With enough reason and charm, you could achieve nearly everything.

How on earth did she know all this?

A few kilometres away from the wards Clary had found a giant bunker beneath the ground, one where someone had planted hundreds of books, all in near perfect condition.

All the buildings had been burned down, but as she had explored the woods she had stepped on something and felt the ground beneath was hollow.

From there on, she had entered the apparent bunker and had been amazed.

All this happened seven years ago, when she was nine years of age.

When she started visiting the bunker frequently, she started noticing tiny thing out of place from where she had left them. As if she wasn't the only one coming there.

So one day, she left a note.

 _Who are you?_

She visited again, three weeks later, to find a response in elegant handwriting.

 _Someone with an interest in books_. _Want to share?_

Since then, they had sent about five notes each, spread out over seven years.

Really, all their connection was was that they left a note if they had read a _really_ good book.

She had discovered that they were more interested in fiction, whereas she dove into the history books with as much excitement a four year old would have for a new toy.

This time, she came with a purpose to find something.

She had read fragments of it before.

Mentionings of horrid creatures, made up by mankind.

There were books like Odyssee and the Ilias, full of mythological creatures that fascinated her beyond possible. She was endlessly inspired by the reach of a human's imagination, it was infinite.

And as she thought of her dream, what she saw lurking in the tree outside her window, she thought:

Reality was infinite, too.

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 **A/N: Another chappie finished. This is your last taste chapter, so tell me what you think. Should I continue? Should I make a full-blown story out of this or a multi-chap?**

 **Or, really, would you enjoy a multi-chap? 'Cause I'm considering that over a story.**

 **Review :)**

 **Favorite and follow xoxoxoxo**

 **Waffles out.**

 **!Sorry for any typos!**


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